The Ball's In Your Court
by mickeydubs
Summary: Naomi is a twenty-something tennis instructor in London. What happens when Emily attends the all ages tennis clinic and 'let's Naomi know what 'love' really is. Haha, get it? No? Nevermind. Crappy summary, I know, but give it a shot anyway. DISCONTINUED.
1. Ideas and Overheads

**Author's Note: Hey look! It's a new story! Not to worry, if you were starting to have a panic attack or something, I shall still be updating "Those Fitch Girls", this story was just filling my brain up and making writing that story impossible until I had at least started this one. So I'll be writing them both. At the same time. We are taking bets on how long this takes to kill me. Anyway. I hope you like tennis puns, 'cause I am so ready to throw them out all through this story.**

Naomi sighed as she looked herself over in the mirror. It was going to be another long, long day. Her shoulder length blonde hair was tied back in a high pony tail. Her frost-blue eyes were crystal clear and almost emotionless. That was okay. It was best if everyone thought she was a hardass. You don't get any respect if people think you're a softy. Her short green exercise shorts showed off her long, muscular legs, her calf muscles clearly defined, but still smooth. She had a white t-shirt on, which fit loosely, but still managed to flatter her subtle curves.

She walked out into the open kitchen area of her flat. It was a small space. Just a simple, one bedroom place; but she had it all to herself and it suited her just fine. There was a small kitchen, with a two-seater breakfast bar which faced out towards the living room. She had one big, comfy, wrap-around sofa, and an overstuffed chair both facing the decent sized television. Behind the seating was a wall of bookshelves, filled to the brim with classics like _Emma_ and _Jane Eyre_ as well as collections of poetry by e.e. cummings and Emily Dickinson and Robert Frost and the like, plus things like photo albums and framed pictures. To the right of the telly was the bathroom, and opposite the bathroom was Naomi's chamber. She had a big, soft, queen-sized bed and a nice desk with a fancy computer perched on top of the wood. She supposed it was a pretty nice place, considering her age and the prices of such flats, but it was easy to indulge in the finer things when you had a steady income as she did.

Being a children's tennis instructor did have its benefits. Yes, the little buggers were more often than not annoying as fuck, but the pay was unbelievable. Some parents really would reach all the way down to the bottom of their pockets to see that their kids learn to play/become good at a sport. Her job wasn't so bad, either. Once she actually got the kids' attention, that is. She swore those kids had the attention spans of squirrels. If she could get them to watch her for more than five seconds, all she had to do was show them the right way to hold their raquets, then she could just feed them easy balls over the net for them to try to hit back at her. She had all sorts of games up her sleeve to play with the littles, but they were only really applicable to large groups, and her lessons tended to be one on one, so her ideas went generally unused. That's not to say she wasn't good. Not at all. Naomi was one of the best. She knew the game and she knew how it was played. If they were willing to listen and practice, the kids she taught came out at the tops of their games. Tennis was yet another one of those games where practice really did make perfect. With some good instruction, all the really needed was a place to play and someone of reasonable skill to hit with. Naomi did her job well. If the kids listened, she could show them all the little tricks and give all the right pointers that would make each individual a better player.

She fished a water bottle out of the back of one of the overhead cabinets. She filled it quickly in the sink, making sure the tap was running cold before putting the mouth of the bottle under the faucet. Screwing the cap back on, she shoved the water bottle into her gym bag, along with her sneakers, cell phone, and a granola bar for later.

Checking again that she had everything, Naomi slung the strap of the bag over her shoulder and exited her quaint studio apartment. She walked out into the car park, pressing the button on her keychain that unlocked the doors for her. Her vehicle wasn't anything special. Just something to get around in. The only things she knew about the car were that it got good gas mileage, it drove smoothly, and it was black and shiny. And also that the dealer kept insisting it was "sleek but sensible. The all-around car." She never paid car dealers much attention. They played everything up too much and tried to make sales on charm alone. That wasn't helped by the fact that most of them had the charm of an angry puffer fish. She strapped herself in, checking all of her mirrors like a good driver does.

Satisfied, she pulled a slightly battered iPod touch out of her pocket and plugged it into the car radio with the adapter cord she'd bought. She turned the volume up and headed out on her way. Naomi supposed she had what other people would call strange taste in music, but she didn't care. She had always preferred to be different from the others of her age group anyway. Her mum had taught her from a young age that it was better to be unique. Unique gets you places. Conformity leaves you sitting in the middle of a group, all of you indistinguishable from each other. That thought had made her coming out in college that much easier. She was used to being the odd one out, and being gay just gave her one more thing that most other people she knew didn't have. Naomi liked being different. She was proud of her oddities. So the peroxide blonde went on listening to her indie and 80's electronica style music, not giving a fuck when others scoffed at her playlists.

When she arrived at the fitness club, she found that she still had about half an hour before her first lesson. She said a quick hello to the receptionist, Pandora, who waved back enthusiastically, before walking behind the front desk and into the staff lounge. She put all of her belongings carefully into her assigned cubby and found her clipboard, looking over who was due to come in today and going over in her head what each of the young players should work on.

There were three lessons lined up for the day. The first two were easy. They were both very much beginners, and would spend the entire time just learning to hit ground strokes and volleys correctly. The last would likely prove to be more interesting, however. The young teenager who came in every week for private lessons with Naomi was really quite the character. Naomi couldn't help wondering what kind of family this kid must come from with all of the stories he told. Not to mention all of the blatant perving he did when he assumed she wasn't looking. You'd think he'd never seen a pair tits before the way he drools over hers.

Naomi chuckled to herself. As annoying as his undressing her with his eyes was, anyone could tell that the kid had a good heart. He had the most genuine smile she thought she'd ever seen on a teenager, and all of the crude jokes he made were cracked in the most good-natured way possible.

There was also the fact that the boy seemed to actually _want_ to get better at tennis. Naomi had been surprised by how many of the kids only came to her because their parents were making them play a sport and they thought tennis would be an easy option. The kid had definitely earned a lot of points with Naomi when he'd shown that he was actually interested in playing the game, and doing it well, rather than just wasting an hour of her and their lives trying to please someone else. He paid her close attention, and seemed honestly focused on becoming a great player. It was all topped off by the fact that he called her "Coach Campbell." It had a nice ring to it, and certainly put some delicious buttercream icing on the cake. She knew she couldn't ask people to call her that, but it was a nice sentiment coming from her favorite student.

The first lesson went by almost agonizingly slowly. During the first, she had to spend fifteen minutes of their hour-long session trying to explain the best way to grip the raquet for forehand and backhand to a six year-old girl, because she kept getting distracted by the adults playing on the court next to them. Eventually she had lost her temper a little bit and snapped at the girl. "Dora! If you want to be good at tennis like those grown ups, you have to listen to me so I can show you how!"

The words themselves weren't all that harsh, but her tone was, and little Dora burst out in tears right there in the middle of the court, causing the players on the courts on both sides of them to stop and stare as she made enough noise to raise the dead and kill the zombies again.

Naomi had panicked a bit at this. She had no idea how to deal with children when they threw tantrums like this. She stood, frozen for a moment, before snapping out of her trance and running to her bag in the staff room. She knew it must have looked bad, her just running out of the room when there was a small girl standing and wailing in the middle of the tennis court, but she soon returned with a diminutive but brightly colored package in her hand. She held it out to show Dora, and the howling quieted a bit. "Tell you what: how about if you can show me the right way to hold your raquet, I give you a Lifesaver? Would you do that for me?" Naomi watched as the six year-old wiped her face, all tears stopped, and looked down at her raquet, searching her brain for the answer that would earn her a candy. She got it on the first try, and smiled brightly up at Naomi, now sucking on her brightly colored treat, all upset forgotten.

Naomi heaved an internal sigh of relief. Maybe she was onto something with this whole handing-out-candy-as-a-reward business.

After her little revelation, Naomi had no trouble keeping Dora's attention on tennis. She wasn't fond of the fact that it was done only for the candy, but it was better that than any more of those awful little meltdowns.

The second lesson went fairly smoothly. After discovering that following instructions and doing things well would earn a Lifesaver, the 10 year-old boy she was teaching eagerly went all out on every single hit, though that caused most of them to fly off astray. Eventually the sugar-crazed young man calmed himself down a bit and managed to get more of his shots in, and Naomi was thrilled that she was finally getting through somewhat.

Naomi had a bit of a break between her second and third lessons, so she made her way back up from the courts into the staff lounge. She took her granola bar from her bag and bought a packaged sandwich from the vending machine, and plopped herself down on one of the three sofas arranged in a little square in the middle of the room, resolving to have a quiet, peaceful lunch, and savor the feeling of her candy breakthrough. She put her feet up on the wood coffee table positioned in the middle of the couches, considering taking a quick nap after finishing her food.

Unfortunately, it was not to be, as Pandora poked her head in the door. "Hey Naomi, whatcha up to?" Naomi grinned at the girl before her, dirty blonde hair done up in pig tails, goofy smile in place.

"Not much, Panda, just eating lunch. Want to join me?" she asked, secretly hoping the answer would be no. She loved Pandora to bits, but when Naomi wanted some time to relax, the girl's energy was a bit much for her.

"Oh, thanks Naoms, but no can do. I've got to get back to the desk. I was just comin' to tell you that the boss wanted a word with you." Pandora's head disappeared back behind the door and Naomi gulped, slightly nervous. Was she going to get in trouble for giving the kids candy? She hadn't thought it would be a problem, but perhaps it was against some kind of code. She brushed the crumbs off herself and stood, walking back out of the tranquil staff room and towards the director's office.

The door was already open when she reached it, but she thought it a good idea to knock first anyway. His chair was faced away from her, but she could see the top of his head and the tennis ball that he kept throwing up and snagging out of the air, playing catch with himself. The familiar voice stated, monotone, "Well come in then." Naomi stepped cautiously forward and sat in one of the two chairs that faced the large mahogany desk. She noticed vaguely that the tennis ball had stopped flying upwards at its regular intervals. Suddenly, the high-backed leather chair whipped around, causing Naomi to jump, and the gruff voice said, "I've been expecting you." Cook's face was serious for a moment before his lips twitched and he broke out in his famous, raucous, and infectious laughter. "Ah man, I've always wanted to do that."

Naomi blew out a huffy breath, a tiny grin appearing on her own mouth. "Jesus, Cook. Give me a heart attack why don't you? I thought I was in trouble for something."

"Nah, Naomikins, why would you be in trouble. Have you ever done anything bad, like, ever? I don't think so."

"Well, I gave some kids candies as rewards during their lessons today. I wasn't sure that would be completely acceptable." Naomi bit her lip, afraid that she might have just given herself up when she was getting off the hook.

"Oh, please Naomi, that's the oldest trick in the book. Everyone does that. It's no big deal." He reached under his desk, pulling out his own bag of Jolly Ranchers.

"Oh," she stated simply. "So what did you want to see me about then?" The formality in the room dropped a level as Cook propped his feet up on the desk, and Naomi slumped down in her chair a bit. Now that she knew she wasn't in any kind of trouble, the two could go back to being casual, carefree friends. Naomi and Cook had known each other for years, long before Cook had opened his fitness center and hired Naomi. They had been partners in crime all throughout college, pulling their fair share of pranks on both classmates and teachers. They still managed to get together with their old friends every few weeks to drink and laugh and relive the good ol' days.

"Well babe, I've had a fucking bril idea. It came to me in a vision," he laughed his trademark laugh, and not for the first time, Naomi had absolutely no idea if he was serious or not. "I think you're gonna like it."

"Really." Naomi raised her eyebrows rather skeptically. She had seen Cooks ideas play out, and they could either end very well or very badly. It was usually the latter, especially when they involved her.

"Yeah, really. You'll love it. I think we should expand our tennis program beyond just personal, one-on-one lessons. What I'm thinking is we start like, a clinic sort of thing. All ages. Anyone can sign up, and we just have a few facilitators. Y'know, have them play group or team games instead of just hitting the ball with one other person. I bet we'd get a bunch of people for something like that."

Naomi thought about it. She was a bit shocked how well thought out this plan was; most of the time they could be summarized in three words or less. It was a simple idea, but it was a very good one. "Well this is unexpected. That's actually a pretty great idea."

He hit himself in the chest, over his heart in faux emotional pain. "Ouch. Hey, I have good ideas Naomikins."

"Aw, of course you do, sweetie," she cooed, feigning consolation.

"Ay, who was it that came up with the plan for this whole fucking establishment, huh?"

Cook let a look of mild triumph fall over his face before Naomi replied, "Whatever helps you sleep at night, hon."

Cook leaned back in his chair again, continuing with their sarcastic banter. "Yeah, yeah. Just 'cause you went to university you think you're so clever."

Naomi had herself a little laugh at that. "Uh huh, you can take that bullshit right back and eat it, Cook. You were the one who fucking told me I was clever, remember?"

"Alright, fine. You win. Jesus, Naoms. You really are something, you know?"

She smiled to herself a bit sarcastically. "Yeah, people do say that about me, don't they?" She winked and made to get up.

"So you will do it, right? The all ages clinic thing? You'd be perfect for it," he called as she neared the door. It was the most genuinely curious and sanguine she thought she'd ever seen him. It was nice.

"I'm sure I could make it work."

Before she knew it, it was time for the last lesson of the day. The lad walked in, a few minutes early as usual, his large smile plastered on his face. "Hello Coach Campbell." He set his bag down and took off his jacket before unzipping the case that held his raquet.

"Good afternoon, James. Ready for your lesson?" She set her clipboard down and picked up her own raquet.

James did his best attempt at a flirty wink and replied, "Always."

Cheeky little fucker. "You know, somehow I knew you were going to say that." Naomi couldn't help but chuckle at his feeble endeavors to win her heart. He really was a sweet kid. She hoped he would find a nice girl to fill that space.

She grabbed the cart with the tennis balls in it and rolled it over to one side of the court. "Was there anything specific you wanted to work on today?"

Naomi had been teaching long enough to know when her students were able to tell when they needed more practice with certain aspects of their game. James seemed to know his abilities pretty well, and she trusted him to be confident enough to come right out and tell her where he would need help. With some of the other kids, especially teenagers, they would say that there wasn't anything in particular that they wanted to practice because they thought if they did that, people would see them not be good at it at first, and would be extremely self-conscious of their lack of skill at the beginning. With those players, Naomi most often had them run simple drills at the beginning of the lesson so she could see herself where their games needed improvement and could go on from there. With players like James, if they came knowing what they needed to work on, they could get right to it instead of just going through the motions. The fundamentals were important. Of course they were. But it was nice to know where the focus would be without having to spend too much time looking for it.

"Well, I was playing with my friend, Gordon McPhearson, at school the other day, and I can't seem to hit my overhead smashes quite right anymore. I used to get them perfectly, but recently they keep flying off randomly whenever I try to hit them. I'm not sure what I'm doing differently, but I can't get them anymore."

Naomi liked it. Straight to the point; no beating around the bush. "Okay, well, why don't you show me how you've been hitting them, and we'll see if I can't spot where you're making your mistake."

She directed him towards the other side of the net, where he was to stand in ready position. She went over to the cart of balls and pulled out a few. She hit him one, sending it off in a high arc. He held his raquet in his right hand, using his left to point up at the oncoming tennis ball, which was good, but when he went to swing at it, something was off. Naomi could see from that first swing where his mistake was, but she decided to let him hit a couple more just to be sure that that was where the problem was consistently occurring. After he'd hit five balls and made the same error on each, she held her hand up and called him over to the net.

"Well, I can see where you're going wrong, but not to worry, it's an easy fix." She saw him nod seriously, taking her words in without question. "You know when you hit an overhead, you want to hold your arm at a ninety degree angle, and break your wrist so that your raquet rests just above your head." He nodded again. "Well, when you get ready to hit your overheads, you let your raquet fall too low behind your head, which means it takes you longer to bring your raquet up to hit the ball, which means you've been hitting the balls about that far too low." She held up her hands about a foot apart to show how the distance between where he was hitting the balls and where they should be hit. "Just be a bit more conscious of where you hold your raquet before you go to swing for the smashes, and I think you'll be fine."

Naomi motioned for the teen to step back again so he could hit some more overheads with her advice in mind. She walked back over to the cart and picked one out, hitting it high above their heads towards him. He squared himself, pointed up with his left hand, and brought his raquet up with his right, this time using the correct technique. He brought the strings down on the ball, swinging with perfect form, and Naomi watched in fascination as the ball bounced sharply down and flew well over the ten foot high fence into the screened-off hallways behind the courts. That was quite a feat, especially for one as young as he. Naomi herself only knew a handful of people who could do that. For the most part overhead smashes hit the fences at the five foot or lower mark.

She turned back to James with a slightly astonished grin on her face, which was more or less mirrored in his own dumbfounded face. Recovering her voice, she announced in a somewhat awed voice, "Like I said, easy fix."

They spent the rest of the lesson just practicing all of the basics. She had him hit twenty ground strokes from behind the baseline, twenty volleys at the net, and thirty more overheads in what was normally referred to as "no man's land", the area between the net and the T where the boxes met. She had him practice his serves. He was partial to the spin serve, rather than flat, which was less common. He didn't have any trouble with that. His serves were very accurate, although he could do with a bit more speed. Naomi had no doubt that it would come with a bit more practice. They played out a few matches with the remaining time, and before long the lesson time was up. As they picked up the balls that lay strewn around the court, Naomi made meaningless chit chat. It didn't hurt to get to know her players.

"So what's going on in your life, James? Any big plans for the weekend?"

He smiled brightly, his eyes lighting right up. "Actually yeah. My sister's just come into town. I'll get to hang with her all weekend."

Naomi frowned slightly in confusion. "Wait, I thought you lived with your sister. Isn't she the one who picks you up from here every week?" In all actuality, Naomi had never met James's sister. His ride always waited in the car in the lot for him to get out of his lessons. She could have sworn she remembered him saying something about living with his sister, though.

"Well, yeah, I live with my sister Katie. My other sister, her twin, actually, Emily, just moved here from Bristol. She's got herself a flat right around the corner from us, so now I'll get to see her all the time." He looked so thrilled, Naomi couldn't help smiling with him. She must be great if he's so ecstatic to be seeing her.

"Sounds great, little man. You'll have to bring them both around sometime. I'd love to meet them." The words were out of her mouth before she processed them. Sure, it wouldn't be a bad idea to meet her student's family. Couldn't be bad to have someone to give updates on the kid's progress.

"That'd be great! I know Emily would love you. She plays tennis too."

"Really? That's awesome. You know, we're going to be starting an all ages tennis clinic soon, you should both come. I bet you'd both enjoy it."

"Whoa, that's fucking awesome, Naomi!" he suddenly blushed, "I-I mean, that's awesome Coach Campbell."

Naomi threw her head back and laughed. "It's alright, James. You can call me Naomi if you want to. I don't mind at all. Though, if you do want to call me Coach Campbell, I like that too." She smiled at him reassuringly.

He grinned back at her, relieved, probably more about not getting bollocked for swearing than the name slip-up. "Okay, cool. So when's this tennis clinic thing happening?"

Naomi bit her lip in thought. "I'm not sure yet, kid. It's a pretty simple idea, shouldn't take too long to set up. We'll probably have it going in a couple weeks or so. I'll keep you posted, 'kay?"

"Cool. Emily and I will be there, for sure."

"Looking forward to it."

**A/N: Well, what do you think? Am I crazy for making them tennis players? No, I already know I am. But let me know what you think anyway! :)**


	2. Warming Up or Heating Up?

**Author's Note: And here we are, chapter 2. This one has very little to do with tennis to be perfectly honest. Also, this was typed and edited at stupid o'clock last night. so if there are any huge mistakes, you can just blame my lack of sleep. ('s what I'm sticking with anyway.) Hope you like it - let me know, would ya?**

Naomi downed about a gallon of water, standing at the sink and refilling her glass each time it was drained. She had a pounding headache and hoped to be rid of it by the time she showed up for the first day of the new all-ages tennis clinic. She popped two Advil and downed one more glass before turning back to face her mess of a flat. The gang had all gotten together at her place the night before, and as usual, had left it in a right state.

Empty beer bottles littered every surface, accompanied by two or three bottles of wine, the girls deciding that they had a more refined taste than the men, sipping on their pinot noir while the men chugged back beer after beer. Effy, known far and wide for her elegance and silent grace, had shown up holding out a bottle of red, her electric blue eyes telling Naomi to thank her later. The guys had followed the slender brunette through the door, each of them carrying a couple cases of varying brands of beer. The whole college gang was there.

Effy arrived first, brandishing her fancy-pants drink silently as per usual, flopping herself onto the couch the moment the bottle was out of her hands, knowing that Naomi would bring her a glass. Effy Stonem was, without a doubt, one of Naomi's best friends. The girl, with her effortless cool persona and her vague, cryptic manner of addressing people, was the one person Naomi knew she could turn to with anything. They'd survived the rollercoaster ride that was Roundview College together, and that bond had stayed with them through the years that followed. She was Naomi's go-to girl, and Naomi was Effy's.

Pandora came next, her boyfriend, Thomas, in tow. The two had started dating back in the day. They were one of those couples who you could look at, even young as they were when they met, and just know that they would be together for the rest of their lives. Anyone could see from the way that they looked at each other that they were head over heels, gut wrenchingly, heart-stoppingly in love.

Naomi often found herself feeling pangs of jealousy for the two of them. She'd always wanted to find that one person, but so far her luck in that department had been less than good. Not that she was really putting forth too much effort. Naomi had molded herself into a hit and run type of girl. She had no trouble picking up girls at the clubs and bars when she went out with her friends, but she was notorious for waking up early and ditching the girls before they'd woken. Naomi had found that she made her judgments about people often before she even spoke to them. She would take in a person's demeanor, the way they interacted with others, and figured that she knew all she needed to know. More often than not, the girls she took home were the ones she wouldn't normally associate with. She would never admit it, but Naomi had been afraid of getting hurt all her life, and her subconscious told her to go at it with the ones she didn't really like so that there wouldn't be any risk of getting attached.

JJ came in next, holding the hand of his beloved Lara. The two had met soon after college, and were practically inseparable. It was a rather unexpected relationship, Lara bringing with her the extra baggage of a little baby boy. However, JJ fell into the father role with surprising ease and enthusiasm. The group was never sure whether the poor boy would ever find anyone special, his autism making social interactions a bit more difficult, but Lara seemed to be extremely good for him. His stuttering was virtually gone, and he was more relaxed around people in general since meeting her. They'd made themselves a nice little family, and, despite everyone's misgivings, seemed to work well together.

The last in the door were Freddie and Cook, an hour after everyone else, having been off somewhere smoking and drooling over girls. Some things never change.

Normally, the gang would have gone out to a bar for their little get-together, but their was some big important match on the telly, and none of the guys could bear to miss it. So while the males in the room crowded around the, rather large, screen on Naomi's living room, the women sat themselves off to the side, Naomi and Effy taking seats on the floor.

Cigarettes and spliffs were lit and the laughter emanating from the apartment could be heard in the street below. It was just a normal night in for the group, the guys getting riled up and fighting over whose team would win, the girls giggling at each other in the corner, everyone in the room getting increasingly, albeit enjoyably, tipsy. Aside from Cook, who kept to tradition and was stone drunk within an hour of arriving. He'd even gone as far as ambushing Panda as she'd come out of the toilet and challenging her to a drinking competition. Too startled to refuse, she'd wound up back where she'd come from, puking her lungs out into the porcelain bowl. Naomi would have felt bad for the girl, but Cook's wolf howl combined with the fact that Pandora had only gotten through three shots had the blue eyed blonde chuckling along with the Cookie monster in her slightly intoxicated state.

By the time everyone left, Naomi's flat was covered in a layer of bottles, wrappers, and cheesepuff powder. There was no way she would have been arsed to clean that night, so she left the garbage and mess for a later point, and dragged herself to her bed, passing out almost the moment she was stripped and laid down.

* * *

She'd woken unpleasantly, the sun blaring in at her from out the window. She groaned when she looked at the clock, seeing that it was only 8:30am. She covered her face with one of her pillows and wished for the sleep to overcome her again. Of course, it didn't. Once she was up, she was up. Naomi groaned, frustrated with herself for not remembering to close the blinds. Weekends were her days to sleep in. She sat up too quickly, and regretted it immediately as blood pumped in her head, the pressure threatening to overtake her for a moment.

When her head decided to calm down a bit, Naomi stood carefully and went into the bathroom, grimacing when she looked at herself in the mirror. There were dark circles under her eyes, which were slightly bloodshot. She shed what little clothing she wore to bed, letting her knickers and t-shirt fall to the floor. Stepping into the shower, Naomi briefly hated herself for having to keep the water on cold. Shivering slightly, she scrubbed herself, letting the freezing water wash over her skin, well and truly waking her. She finished swiftly, not wanting to dawdle in the bitterly chilly cascade. She dried herself, rubbing the towel all down her body, looking to remove all remaining water as quickly as possible. She wrapped the fluffy whiteness around herself and took a second look in the mirror. Much better. The cold shower may have been painful, but she looked much more awake and alive for it.

Heading back into her bedroom, Naomi dressed simply. Once again in a pair of track shorts, she also sported a, reasonably tight, white tank top and a shockingly stylish green headband. Being honest with herself, Naomi had only bought the shirt in the first place because of how great it complimented her figure. She wasn't normally into the whole tight-shirt-and-short-skirts type of wardrobe, but she couldn't help herself when she saw herself in the mirror at the store. It hugged her curves in just the right way, without the neckline cutting too low. She smiled at her reflection. It always felt good wearing this outfit. It gave her an extra ounce of her own real confidence, instead of the semi-confidence she usually exaggerated.

Head still not quite where it should be, Naomi held up her hands next to her eyes to block her peripheral vision as she made a beeline from her bedroom for the kitchen sink, not wanting to see the awful mess that was her living room until she had some kind of pain reliever and lots of water in her system. She'd never been much of a coffee person, preferring instead to take what she thought was a healthier route and just drink tons of nature's life-giving liquid.

Having thrown back her pills and H2O, she turned to face her flat, dreading what she'd find. The mess her eyes were met with wasn't quite as bad as she was expecting. In fact, compared to the state her place had been left in by those gits she called friends, it was practically clean. Just a bunch of bottles and glasses left on the tables and counters and random bags and wrappers strewn about which were the only evidence left of any food they'd consumed, the edible bits still residing in their bellies.

Blowing out a sigh, Naomi set about cleaning her house. She collected as many of the bottles as she could in her arms, dumping them unceremoniously into the bin, making three trips with just the lagers. She took the wine glasses, all of them empty, and carried them upside-down by the stems to the sink, where she rinsed them and set them aside to be properly washed later. Walking back into the living room, she grabbed as many wrappers as she could reach, tossing them in the garbage with the bottles, grinding her teeth a bit at whoever it was that tried to hide their trash under the sofa. She brought out the bulky vacuum cleaner from the hall closet and ran it over the carpet, hoping to get up all of the powder and crumbs and whatever else was left on her floor.

Finally finished cleaning, Naomi sat heavily on her well broken-in couch, huffing a breath out. Checking the time, she saw that there was still a good hour and a half until noon, when people would start showing up at the fitness center for the clinic. Thinking that going back to bed was probably not a good idea, the fit blonde got all of her things together. She decided to head into her workplace early and have herself a workout with the time she had before she would be hitting the bouncy green balls with anyone that actually showed up for the clinic. She filled up her water bottle, humming to herself. Grabbing a banana to eat in the car on the way over, Naomi took up her bag and left her flat.

* * *

By the time she arrived, she still had a solid hour before the clinic was to begin for the first time. She dropped her bag in the staff lounge as usual, taking her water bottle and heading out into the hallway then through a door and down the half-staircase into the gym area. Setting her water in the convenient holder at the side of the machine, she took her place on an elliptical, pausing for a moment to pull out her iPod and find her "exercise music" playlist. "Move Your Feet" by Junior Senior came over her ear buds, and with the somewhat fast tempo encouraging her, she pressed the start button on the elliptical machine and began her workout. She kept at a steady pace, pushing herself just enough that she could feel good about what she was doing without going overboard, as she had been known to do in the past. She continued exercising at her sensible rapidity for another two songs, but sped up as she heard "Sleepyhead" by Passion Pit come on. She liked to workout with spurts of a more rigorous pace for the length of one song between a few more normally paced songs. It allowed her to get her hard work in without needing to go all out at the very end as she'd seen so many others do. She'd heard it was actually bad to exert a lot of extra energy at the end of a workout, because it gives one's body less time to cool down before one stops entirely.

She kept at it on the elliptical for forty minutes. When she was done, as all members were expected to do, she got a paper towel from the dispenser at the back of the room and used the provided spray bottle to get the sanitizing solution on it and wiped down any parts of the machine she touched. As she went to throw the used paper towel away, the door opened beside her and someone she didn't recognize walked in.

A girl, rather on the short side, but still extremely fit and, Naomi couldn't help but notice, hot, sauntered over to one of the rowing machines and started her workout. Naomi couldn't help but stare a bit. The girl's body was rather impressive. She was thin, but not overly so, and her arms were toned and muscular. Her vibrant red hair was up in a loose pony tail, which fell just onto her shoulders. Her back, clearly visible, as the girl was wearing nothing on top other than a black sports bra, curved and straightened smoothly as she pulled on the handles on the machine, simulating rowing a boat, getting an excellent workout of all her core muscles. The muscles in her legs were clearly defined, and as she continued to watch, Naomi could see the lightest of sweats begin to breakout on the smooth skin. She could almost see each individual muscle flowing as the girl exercised. Naomi found herself wondering what it must be like to have those strong arms around her neck, those toned legs wrapped around her waist, those supple, red lips on her own and on her neck, hands wandering around perfect bodies, their sweat mingling-

Realizing what she was doing, Naomi snapped out of it and closed her mouth, which had been hanging just slightly open. Collecting herself, she paced over to the butterfly machine, which was off to the side and slightly on front of the rowing machines, working on her already deceptively strong arms.

She focused on her muscles for a few minutes, making sure to breathe at the right time and all of that other nonsense trainers drill into your brain at gyms.

When she glanced back over at the lithe redhead, she couldn't help but grin a little bit to herself when she caught the shorter girl watching her as well. The girl diverted her deep, brown eyes when she realized Naomi had seen her, her cheeks flushing slightly so that her face was only a few shades lighter than her hair. Naomi was suddenly very glad she had worn such a flattering outfit that day.

She puffed out her chest a little, and allowed herself a playful smirk when the redheaded beauty looked over at her again, this time not immediately breaking eye contact.

The new girl saw the fascinated twinkle in the blonde's eye and cocked one eyebrow. Naomi raised an eyebrow of her own, accepting the unspoken challenge issued by this unknown creature across the room.

The two girls, alone in the exercise room, both began to increase their paces. Naomi pushed her arms harder, bringing the wings of her machine together faster and faster. The mysterious redhead pulled on the handles of the rowing machine with incredible force. Naomi was sure if she were in a real rowboat she would be going nearly as fast as one with an engine.

They kept at it, pushing themselves harder and harder, both determined to out-exercise the other. Naomi could feel her muscles tiring rapidly, and the burn in her arms had long since turned to a numb, tingly sensation. She could see the redhead wearing down as well, but just as she was ready to finish her off, left arm gave out and the machine slammed back into place, shocking them both into freezing where they were.

Naomi blinked several times, not sure what to say. Eventually, she settled on reaching down and having a drink from her water bottle. When she had screwed the cap back on, she looked up to see the new girl walking towards her. She couldn't help her gaze dragging briefly over the girl's body, soaking in the sight of it. She was even nicer to look at straight on. She tried her hardest not to perv, but when the redhead's top was only a sports bra, it was exceedingly difficult. The blonde couldn't stop herself from appreciating the redhead's cleavage. Her breasts were round and inviting, if a tad on the small side. It's not as if Naomi minded in the slightest. Her head snapped back up to the girl's face at the sound of her voice, taking note of the amused smile that played on the her picturesque, cherry lips, before she was lost in the pools of chocolate that were the girl's eyes.

"That was impressive. I was about ready to give up there before you slipped."

Naomi licked her lips, her mouth having gone dry. The redhead's voice came out very husky, and the blonde had to repress a shiver upon hearing it.

"You did pretty well yourself. I don't think I've seen anyone handle the rowing machine with that much power before. And you see you fair share of body builders around this place."

She grinned when she saw a blush creep onto the redhead's face again before adding quickly, "That's not to say you don't look fit or anything, though. I mean, you certainly appear as if you, erm, exercise."

Naomi internally cursed herself for that. She was usually great at talking to girls. She was a master, even. But something about this one... this one made her nervous. Naomi could feel her palms sweating and put her hands on her hips, trying to discreetly fix that.

The new girl looked Naomi up and down slowly, her eyes spending an almost unnoticeably longer amount of time on certain spots.

"You look pretty in shape to me too."

It was too much for Naomi. The huskiness of her voice, the dilation of her pupils, the thinnest layer of sweat still clinging to her porcelain skin. There was only one reaction programmed into her brain. Naomi stood from where she was perched on her exercise machine and stepped purposely toward the waiting redhead.

Less than a foot stood between them and Naomi was just about to close the distance, reach out and tangle her hands in those fiery locks, when a familiar voice stopped her dead in her tracks.

"Oh there you are! I've been looking all over for you. I'm not allowed in the girls' locker room, so I wasn't sure if you were just hanging out in there or what, but I guess you were probably in here the whole time, weren't you?" James Fitch came waltzing into the room, completely unaware of what he had almost barged in on.

At first Naomi was confused. Why would James have been looking for her? But then she realized that he wasn't actually looking at her. He made it another couple of steps before realizing that she was even there.

"Oh hey Coach Campbell!" he smiled, before turning back to the redhead and looking between the two. "Hey, have you two met?" He smiled and gestured over his shoulder at the brown eyed woman behind him. "This is my sister, Emily."

"Oh."


	3. Queen of the Court

**Author's Note: Well, I certainly hope you all haven't forgotten about this story. I know I haven't updated in forever, (like, a month. Sorry. I really didn't mean to keep you all waiting so long. My bad. Forgive me?) but I am working on getting better at that. And you have to cut me _some_ slack for trying to keep two stories going at once. (Okay, so I might be flailing a bit here, but I'll get over it, I'm sure. Probably.) I've got a lot of things going on, especially now that my own tennis season is in full swing. (Aha, you catch that one? XD) Anyway.**

**Here we are. Chapter three. More character development and whatnot. More tennis, of course. And one of my favorite games involving tennis. Seriously, it's a lot of much fun. Alright, I'm done rambling. Go on and read, since that's what you're here for.**

"Alright, everyone. As any late-comers filter in, how about we start off with a little game called King of the Court, eh?" Naomi stood in the center of the court, with twenty or so people gathered around her.

When she had first seen the motley crew, she couldn't help but be a bit surprised by the turn out. When they said all ages, they really meant it. There were kids there who looked like they couldn't be older than four, one of whom looked like he was trying to eat his raquet, handle first.

The masses moved their way up in age. There was a group of girls, probably around eleven or twelve, who were standing in the back, paying the blonde absolutely no attention, giggling to themselves.

A group of teenagers, both boys and girls, stood in the center of the crowd, trying to pretend as if they were listening, but clearly doing the same as the younger girls.

There were a few adults, probably ten or so years older than Naomi.

Three women were there who appeared to be around the age of seventy or eighty. Naomi couldn't help but thinking about the fact that one of them looked like it was a miracle she could manage to lift herself out of bed every morning. But hey, if the lady was willing to spend her time with a raquet in her hand, all the more power to her.

And then there was her. The one her favorite student had been so excited for her to meet. James's sister. The only other person there remotely close to the blonde's own age. Although, Naomi was fairly certain she remembered James telling her that his sister Katie was the same age as her, so that would make the redhead the same as well, right? Emily would be perhaps just a tad younger than Naomi. Emily.

Naomi stopped herself before she thought about what a lovely name that was. Emily. No, she had already decided that she could not pursue this one. It would be completely unprofessional, getting involved with one of her students' guardians. Actually, since she was attending the tennis clinic, that made her one of Naomi's students. Even more inappropriate.

Naomi clung to the idea that she couldn't go after Emily because of ethical/professional reasons. In all reality, she was almost positive that Cook and any of the others who worked with her would have no problem at all with her seeing one of her student's family members. In fact, Naomi was pretty sure that one of Cook's many short-term relationships was with one of his students' adoptive mothers. And then her partner. Needless to say, that family had switched gyms when Cook broke it off.

But Naomi needed a reason to not pursue anything with the older of her Fitch clients. She knew deep down that Emily wasn't just some girl she could fuck and then tell to fuck off. There was something about the way there was some kind of instant attraction sparked in her. The cherry red hair combined with the sweat-shined muscles of her back had had the blonde practically drooling the moment she laid eyes on her. But even more than that, her voice had seemed to block everything else out of existence. And even more than _that_, those eyes. The shining discs of mahogany-colored warmth that just engulfed her, left her mind blank of anything but the gorgeousness of the creature before her. She'd heard of people getting lost in a lover's eyes, but she had always just assumed it was one of those things people say when they're trying to be all cheesy and romantic. She'd never thought that any of that romance novel shit could possibly be based on actual experience. But there she was, having seen it first hand. It was that stupid corny moment you always read about where the rest of the universe is blocked out and the only thing you can possibly focus your mind on is the other person, and it scared the shit out of Naomi, because for a moment, it was rather fucking wonderful. That was not a good thing. Naomi Campbell was not one to fall for someone so easily.

Fuck, Naomi Campbell wasn't one to fall for someone at all.

For several years, Naomi had constructed herself a persona to put on around the girls she was attracted to. She made herself aloof, and the girls ate it all up. They thought she was just the coolest thing – mysterious, unapproachable. When she even glanced in their direction, it was perfectly calculated so that the blonde could assure herself a shag, without ever having to give anything of herself. That was the way she liked it. No emotion, no attachment, nothing. Just a good time and someone to keep the other side of the bed warm.

Things are always easier when you don't let yourself care.

That was why she couldn't let herself get to know this Emily Fitch. There was something about her that made Naomi's inhibitions slide away, without her even realizing until they were already gone. She couldn't have that. She needed to keep her distance.

"For those of you who have never played before, I'll explain the rules. There will be one player on this side of the court," she motioned, indicating the side behind her. "Everyone else will form a line on that side." She gestured again, pointing to the other side. "One at a time, I'll feed you a ball, and you'll play out the point against the person on this side, who is, essentially, King," she paused for half a beat, "or Queen, of the court. If you win against that person, I'll give you an overhead, and the two of you will play out that point. If you win against the king or queen on that second point, you then become whichever royal pronoun you prefer. Capeesh?"

There was a light grumble of understanding, and the group began shuffling their feet back towards the end of the court where the line started.

"James!" Naomi called the boy over, leaning down to speak quietly when he came jogging to her. "Why don't you start off as king, show 'em all how it's done?"

He smiled brightly, flashing the blonde a view of his famous James Fitch charm, only stopping to ask, "Sure thing, Coach Campbell. But can I be a queen, instead of king? I think I'd prefer that, really. I nearly borrowed one of Emily's skirts to play today, if that helps my case at all."

Naomi couldn't help but return his grin, shaking her head fondly. The kid was just so honest and genuine - even if he was a bit... unique, to say the least. He was his own person, and that was something Naomi hugely respected. "Like I said, you can be whatever royal pronoun you like. You could even be the court jester if it satisfies your interest. I'm sure that would be very fitting." She winked and waved him towards the baseline to get the game going.

James jogged over to his position and stood at the ready, his knees bent and his hands loosely gripping his raquet, ready for whatever his opponent would throw; or rather, hit, his way.

The first person in line, one of the teenagers who had only half paid attention, stepped forward, and Naomi hit him an easy ball, to his backhand. However, the boy's grip on his raquet was badly adjusted. He had clearly been expecting a forehand, which was exactly why the blonde woman in charge had hit it where she did. The boy hit the small, yellow-green ball off of the frame of his raquet, and it flew high above the court, almost touching the ceiling. It came back down, and landed inches away from the net, on the boy's own side of the court. He bowed his head, trying to hide the embarrassed pink flush that had begun to creep up his cheeks as the girls he'd been flirting with earlier laughed at his expense.

Naomi hid her own little triumphant smile. Really, the kid had gotten what he deserved. She paused for just a moment, and adressed the group. "I think we can all learn from the incidence we've all just borne witness to, can we not? Remember, what is the most important shot in tennis?"

She looked over the line of misfit tennis players, noticing how no one seemed willing to meet her eyes. She was about ready to throw out one of her famous eye rolls and turn to James, who surely knew the answer by this point, when she was met with a pair of strikingly familiar eyes, and froze in place. She almost didn't hear when Emily answered, "The first shot."

She stared at the redhead for a moment in surprise, her eyebrows raised a bit. She recovered quickly, blinking twice, and cleared her throat. "That's correct. The first shot, everyone! Don't miss the first shot."

She licked her lips, struggling to tear her own eyes away from that oh-so deep brown of one Ms. Fitch's. Naomi hadn't expected anyone to know the answer to that question. She was rather hoping to use her usual teaching tactic of making them feel just slightly foolish for _not_ knowing, and then gracing them with that valuable nugget of intelligence. It wasn't often that someone actually knew the answer she was looking for, and could give it to her with such confidence. But then, she was James's sister. Perhaps he had just been talking about tennis with her and it came up. Yeah, Naomi would go with that.

The blonde took a deep breath and grabbed another tennis ball from the crate next to her, hitting it lightly to the next person in line, one of the little girls who she knew wouldn't have been paying attention. She did manage to get the ball over the net, though. James returned it softly, not wanting to be that mean person who totally crushed a little kid. She hit it back to him and they kept up a nice rally for some time until she, inadvertently, Naomi was sure, lobbed it over James's head and far enough back that he couldn't reach it before it came down and bounced a second time. He turned back, breathing just a tad bit heavily from running after the ball, with a big grin for the little girl. "Nice lob, hon. You really got me there." She smiled shyly, attempting to hide her face in her shoulder.

Naomi spoke kindly to the girl, reclaiming her concentration. "Okay, Lily. I'm going to hit you an overhead now." She hit the ball several feet above the girl's head. Lily raised her raquet, noticeably unsure of what to do, and swung wildly. Her raquet whiffed past the ball, making no contact, creating a healthy _swoosh_ sound. Naomi gave her a soothing, "good try. You'll get it next time. Remember to keep your head up on those," before turning to the next candidate.

Once again, her eyes were met with that pair that she could really only describe as chocolate intensity. Emily.

She mentally berated herself harshly for the sweat that was forming on her hands. She had absolutely no reason to be made nervous by this person. They didn't even really know each other. They'd only met that day. Okay, so they had almost kissed, but the more she thought about that, the more Naomi had herself convinced that Emily was just being friendly and making banter, not flirting. Hell, she was probably straight as an arrow, too. But Naomi couldn't help it. There was something about this unknown cherry-haired creature that made her heart beat just that little bit faster.

She tried to subtly dry the moisture on her palms by twirling her raquet in her hands a few times over to get a tiny bit of wind on her skin and the surface of the grip of the raquet. It didn't help much.

Naomi took a ball from the crate and hit it a bit too lightly, sending it sailing gracefully right into the net. She rolled her eyes at herself. She breathed deeply through her nose and sent the next ball cleanly onto the other side of the court.

She'd unintentionally put quite a bit of spin on the ball, and it curved far to the redhead's backhand upon its first bounce. Emily didn't seem to have any trouble with it. In fact, she almost appeared to have been expecting it. She moved elegantly to the space where the ball was heading, brought her raquet back with both hands, then snapped it forward in one of the most beautiful one-handed backhands Naomi had ever seen. The blonde had always admired people who could pull off one-handed backhands. Naomi herself was only confident enough to use them with any regularity in the shallow space between the net and service line. This fun-sized Fitch had just taken a full backhand groundstroke from behind the baseline with one hand. Clearly their little bout in the weight room had been an accurate show of just how much power the smaller girl had. Naomi couldn't help muttering under her breath, "Well, color me impressed."

Her regard of the redhead's skill only grew as she played out the point with her brother. The blonde could easily tell that the two had played together before, as James hit her groundstroke back to her, with the same amount of power. Blue eyes were trailed on Emily the entire time, as she strategically moved toward the net, taking several running-steps toward a secure spot where she could hit every shot as a volley each time she hit a long ball back to James, keeping the distance just long enough to keep him back toward his own baseline as she moved gradually forward. It was very interesting for all those watching as the brother and sister battled it out on the tennis court. Naomi found herself rather proud of her young student, seeing him put to use the lessons he'd taken from her. They were almost perfectly evenly matched. One could see the sweat beginning to form on both of their brows and creating small stains on their shirts as they worked tirelessly to out-play the other. Naomi almost chuckled to herself as she saw two of the elder ladies whispering to themselves in the background, undoubtedly commenting on the "terrible sibling rivalry" that was unfolding before all of them.

Naomi had no idea how she knew, but she was positive that it didn't have anything to do with them really wanting to beat the other. It struck Naomi as more of a case where both players just wanted to be the absolute best they could, and if it meant beating their sibling in a game of King of the Court, then so be it. She could see that the Fitch family was a competitive one, but not to the point where the members of each party became hostile. She could see them cracking smiles at each other when they hit particularly spectacular shots, though she wasn't sure how they managed to when so much energy was being poured into this fantastic display of both their talents.

She was just about convinced that this point really would last forever, when James took one step too little towards the ball his sister had hit and had to over compensate, causing him to lose his balance a bit. Emily saw this and took advantage of it, smashing a power volley in the opposite half of his side of the court. He knew there was no way he'd be able to reach it in time, and hit the heel of his palm on his strings a few times, applauding her and accepting his defeat.

When she hit her overhead, Naomi was just glad she didn't blink, otherwise she would have missed it. It really was quite a sight to behold. Naomi found herself growing more and more impressed with this girl she'd just met. The redhead seemed to have a natural talent and grace about her when she stepped onto the tennis court. Anyone could see she was skilled, and it appeared as though Emily knew it too. But she didn't seem like she liked to show off or showboat her abilities. She took everything with class and respect. That, apparently, was another thing Fitch's had in common. The ball bounced hard once just beyond the service line, then above James's head and over the fence behind him. He watched it go, threw up his hands, and took his humble pie with a thank you.

Naomi could almost smell the intimidation coming from the other attendees of the tennis clinic. After the workout of playing a spectacular point against her brother, Emily's muscles looked more defined, and she almost glowed with the sheen of sweat shining in the fluorescent light of the indoor courts. Naomi felt certain at that moment that if there has ever been a Greek goddess of tennis, she would have looked exactly like Emily.

It seemed as though Emily Fitch was not a force to be trifled with.

**A/N: Yeah, so I named the cute little girl Lily. You know you loved that little detail if you caught it. ;) **


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